Level Zero
by Kathy F Capri
Summary: Mario prepares for level one


Level Zero A Mario story by Kathy F Capri

'You're a fool to go out there,' says Luigi as he stands shrouded by long shadows in the corner. I set a warped old piece of vinyl on the gramophone table and tilt the needle. Through the crackles and haze, the orchestra begins the overture of Rossini's Semiramide. Perhaps Wagner is more appropriate for the eve of battle, but I find the light tone helps prepare me for the unparalleled whimsy of the Mushroom Kingdom. I hum along with the brass section to demonstrate to my brother just how little I care for his words.

He turns to face the window and sheet lightning illuminates the full sphere of his nose. He assumes a darker, wraithlike expression for that brief moment of the storm. His eyes seem glassy in their sockets, the cheeks hollow...even the playful moustache appears sinister. As a child, the lightening terrified him and although he no longer flinches with every flash, I still see fear in my brother's eyes. I glance past him and out the window to see those grim troopas stalk amongst the tall pipes. Perhaps he is right to be afraid.

'I have to do this,' I tell him...tell myself. 'She's in trouble.'

'She always is,' he replies, sardonically. As he turns, again, to face me he carries a mocking sneer. I have run through fire and spikes, seen thwomps rain down from above and leapt pits of impossible depth without harm, but he alone knows how to hurt me. For a few moments, we stand glaring at one another, all thoughts left unsaid. The orchestra peaks, as though reacting to the tension between us. I sigh and let my glower fall. 'I haven't got time for this,' I say.

I cross the room while he remains at the window. The storm took out the electrics and the room now lies in darkness, but I know from memory where her portrait hangs and I feel her eyes upon me as I pass. I never cared for the painting, although I treasure it as a gift. The artist, I feel, failed to capture her essential warmth and sympathy. The old toadstool rendered her cold and austere, as befitting her royal station. I prefer to remember her as she looked on that perfect spring day when the sunlight caught her platinum hair and glossed the full blush on her high cheekbones. Perfectly serene as she lay in the meadow.

I try to cling to this image, but my last memory of her taints every thought. I see her in Bowser's arms as he carries her away. Her heel turned coquettishly beneath the green scales of his bicep, hands in stained white opera gloves pressed to her cheeks and crown awry on tousled locks. Her face contorted in some laboured paroxysm of a scream even though she emits only the faintest of moans. Perhaps it is right that I remember her thus. Perhaps I need to be angry in order to fulfil my task. I suspect that Luigi knows this too.

'And you'll wear bright red as usual,' he goads as I open the wardrobe door. I ignore him, pull the overalls from the hanger and step into them. 'Why not just paint a target on your belly if you wanna stand out?' His jibes always carry these hidden barbs. The question of colour does not offend, but I find insult in the mention of my stomach. The reference to my recent weight-gain. I mutter under my breath as I tug at the shoulder straps to draw the overalls past my ample midriff. He chuckles as I struggle into my clothes. 'You're outta shape Mario,' he says coldly. 'A year ago you could have taken Bowser without breaking sweat. Now you let him skip on in and drag the princess away.'

'I'll get her back,' I reply, indignant.

He snorts. 'How? By taking him on in his own castle? You couldn't even touch him on home turf, how are you gonna stand a chance when he's writing the rules. Who knows what he's got in there? Or in the miles between there and here. You can see the hordes massing,' he says, waving toward the window to illustrate his point. 'There's troopas, goombas,' at this point he begins to count on his fingers as he lists my enemies, 'thwomps, piranha plants, bullet bills...'

'I've faced them all before,' I reassure him. 'I know how to deal with them.'

He laughs at me and plants his hands on his hips. 'Borrowed time, Mario. Borrowed time. You only need to slip up once and it's all over brother.'

I stoop to tie my bootlaces. 'So I'll take a mushroom.'

'I'll take a mushroom,' he echoes sarcastically. 'One mushroom. How long's that gonna last?'

'You got any better ideas?' I ask as I move to the dresser. I place and straighten the cap. The gloves go on.

'Don't go,' he suggests.

I see his reflection in the mirror. He looks serious. I struggle to restrain my laughter. 'Don't go? Do nothing?'

'Aha.'

'And what about duty?' I implore. 'What about responsibility? You seriously think I should just sit back and watch Bowser raze the entire kingdom?'

'This isn't your fight.'

The overture ends and a chorus of peasants emerge from the crackling. The needle sticks and repeats the same two bars on a loop, as though the genteel and melodious peasants decided to form an angry chanting mob. 'When he took the princess he made it my fight,' I tell Luigi as I return to the gramophone and set it the beginning of the first aria. My heart rises when the prima donna sings with clarity and passion.

'She doesn't love you,' he says as both the storm and the singer reach their respective crescendos.

I step sharply toward him. My eyes meet his lower lip. He was always taller than me. Even as a child. I feel ridiculous but my anger compels me. 'Too far Lou,' I say, jabbing his chest with my finger.

'She just likes to see you running around after her,' he taunts. 'Some girl's are like that. They enjoy the drama, but essentially they feel nothing.'

'You could never understand the bond we share,' I reply, my words slow and strained. 'I saved her life.'

'And even if you do it again it won't make any difference. She's a princess, Mario. And you're just a plumber with an ego. A tradesman. She wouldn't even look twice at someone like you. Bowser's got more of a chance than you.'

I intend a mocking laugh, but what comes out of my mouth could only be described as a high squeak. 'No way. He's a lizard. A freak.'

'Yeah but he's royalty Mario. He's King Koopa,' says Luigi, adding needless flourish to the title. 'They stick to their own, the upper classes.'

Now I know he's joking. Attempting to rile me. She would never even consider someone like Koopa. Would she? The image of Peach in Bowser's arms returns to me. Could it be that there was some frisson between them? Why did she not scream? Why does she allow this to happen, every time? Am I just the stooge for some sick game?

I kiss my brother on both cheeks. 'Take care Lou,' I tell him as I make for the door. 'I'll bring you back a souvenir.'

'Mario,' he calls as I open the door. I spin on my heels to see him clutching a bouquet of fireblooms. Luigi picks a single fire-flower and tosses it toward me. He winks as it lands at my feet. 'Give em hell,' he tells me. 


End file.
